Agents of the Shield
by Allmyshipshavesunk
Summary: A medieval reimagining of Agents of SHIELD.
1. Chapter 1

**London, September 24, 1570**

"Here you go son." Michael took the loaf of bread from the baker and turned to hand it to his son who was staring longingly at the pastries and sweetbreads on the shelves. He kneeled down so that he was on his son's level, "Which of those do you like? It will be Christmas soon, we should have our own little feast."

Ace shook his head, "I'm fine."

Michael sighed, "I know we don't have much right now Ace, but I will find work soon, and then everything will be-" His words were cut off by the sound of an explosion. He looked up to see flames pouring from the windows of a large building down the road. "Ace, stay here with the baker, people may be hurt, they may need my help." Without another word he dashed down the road to the alley behind the building. Michael checked for anyone watching him, seeing no one he grabbed hold of the stone wall, crushing it beneath his fingertips like brittle clay.

Down the road a young woman, dressed in the fanciful clothes of a traveling fortune teller, watched with rapt attention. Everyone else might believe that the explosion was simply due to a careless spark touching the gunpowder stored in the building, but she knew better, she knew that there was something more going on here, and she was determined to find out what.

While everyone else was focused on the front of the building and the men pouring out, covered in soot and ash, she kept her attention on the back of the building. If she had learned anything in her life, it was that the most obvious thing was rarely the most interesting, or the most important.

As another small explosion rocked the area Skye saw a man leap from one of the upper windows, a woman in his arms, and land perfectly in the back alley. He gently set the woman on the ground, looked both ways, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Skye smiled and hurried back to her wagon, she had work to do.

**Paris, Same day**

"We have to call this off Grant, we've learned that The Rising Tide has also discovered the location of the item and they posted it on churches and shops all across Paris."

Grant shrugged and smiled before leaping astride his horse, "If this job was easy..."

The older man rolled his eyes and continued, "it wouldn't be any fun. Go on then, but take care."

Grant weaved his way through the mass of wagons and people that filled the streets of Paris until he reached his destination, a stately mansion in the wealthiest part of the city. He dismounted, leaving his horse tied to a post, and slipped in through the back entrance, with the feast going on nobody would notice another servant.

Following the directions he'd been given the day before he went up the back staircase, down the hall, and through the third door on the right. Inside he went straight to the fireplace, feeling for the hidden button he'd been told to press. Just as Grant's fingers touched the release he felt someone come up behind him. He whirled around and delivered a hard punch into his assailant's nose and then drove his knee into the man's groin. The man fell to the ground groaning and Grant jumped over him to meet his second attacker.

The man dove at him, his meaty hands wrapping around Grant's throat. Rearing his head back Grant drove his forehead into the man's nose and then flipped him over his shoulder. The first man tried to rise but a quick kick to the head put an end to that.

Stepping over the unconscious thugs Grant activated the mechanism in the fireplace and removed the carefully sealed box from the space. With the package in hand he slipped back down the stairs and into the alley, and onto the back of a coach moving swiftly down the street.

**The Shield's primary fortress, Later that day**

Lady Maria Hill, one of the highest ranking members of The Shield, leaned back in her seat, affecting a relaxed posture, "Tell me Agent Ward, what does SHIELD stand for?"

Grant sighed and leaned back in his chair, he hated these meetings, "Safety and Health In England and Lands Distant."

"And just what does that mean to you?" Lady Maria prompted.

"It means someone really wanted our name to be The Shield."

Lady Maria quirked an eyebrow and Grant sighed again, "It means that it is up to us to keep this world safe, to be the last line of defense, to uphold the boundaries between our world and a far stranger one. When things appear that people simply aren't ready for, we take care of it, things like this." He reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew the box he'd recovered earlier that day, he leaned across the table and handed it to Lady Maria.

"Do you know what Vanchat's plans for it were?"

"I am far more interested how Rising Tide learned about it. I thought they were just con artists and misguided scholars, what changed?"

"Everything." Lady Maria leaned forward across the table. "The Battle of York was the end of the world, and the start of a new one, it paved the way for things nobody thought possible."

Growing impatient Grant leaned farther forward, "Why was I taken from Paris?"

"That is a question for Sir Phillip."

"I'm of the sixth order Lady Maria, I know that Sir Phillip died in the Battle of York."

"Welcome to seventh order Agent Ward." Sir Phillip stepped out of the hallway with a smile, "My apologies, I couldn't help myself."

Grant sank back into his chair, it had been a long day but it looked as if it was just getting started.


	2. Chapter 2

"So Lord Nicholas let everyone think you had perished to motivate The Avengers?" Grant proposed to Lady Maria and Sir Phillip.

"Yes, the death of a common ally, a friend, can be a powerful motivator." Lady Maria answered as she pressed the proper combination of stones to open the door.

"It wasn't even a lie really, I stopped breathing for a few minutes." Sir Phillip added, prompting an eyeroll from Lady Maria.

"It was only a few seconds, by my eyes it gets longer every time you tell someone."

"Yes, well when you are run through by a power crazed Asgardian prince you can tell it however you like. It felt like much more than a few seconds when I was sure the angels had come for me." Sir Phillip retorted.

"Has anyone told the Avengers?" Grant questioned.

Lady Maria shook her head, "They aren't of the seventh order."

"After I was able to leave the monastery Sir Nicholas sent me to the Orient to complete my recovery."

"And now you've come back, why?"

"Because of this." Sir Phillip dropped a heavy stack of papers onto the table in front of Grant who began flipping through them. He stopped on a sketch of a dark skinned man in the garb of a peasant.

"Who is he?"

"We don't know, but he is special, and not in our records." Lady Maria answered.

"Who put out all of this information?"

Sir Phillip sighed, "Most of it came from The Rising Tide, they've been posting pamphlets and sketches on churches and inns from here to Paris."

"How could they have possibly found all of this?" Grant asked, incredulous.

The older man smiled slightly, "The same way they knew about the object in Paris. They're good. Which is why I need better."

"Sir Phillip has requested a traveling band of agents, of which you will be a part."

"They have been trying to draw us out for some time now, and I think it's time that they were successful."

Grant nodded, finally starting to catch on. "So you want me to silence them."

Sir Phillip blinked and took a half step back, "No not at all, we are going to use them to get to him." He tapped the sketch on the table. "This man's life is only going to continue to grow stranger and stranger, and he will need help in dealing with it all."

Grant shook his head, "Then I am not the man for you Sir Phillip. From the beginning I have been trained to go in and take care of things, quickly and quietly. Not to negotiate with fools."

"Oh I know this is far from what you want Agent Ward, Lady Maria has given me a rather detailed report on your last few quests." Sir Phillip took a sheet of paper off the table and began going over it. "In combat your skills are nearly without equal. In espionage she has given you the highest marks since Romanova. However when it comes to personal relations well," he smiled, "she seems to have drawn a briar patch." Lady Maria nodded in assent.

"Given your family I'm really surprised that it isn't even worse than that, but I still believe you are the correct man." Sir Phillip finished, crossing his arms over his chest in a challenging gesture. "If I'm wrong you are welcome to return to your explosions and assassination plots."

At that moment The Shield's chief physician entered the room with a stack of papers. "Your band has been deemed physically sound. Of course you must keep in mind that Fitzsimmons have not been designated for combat." He looked over the youngest agent, "Sir Grant here is nearly too capable."

"You see Sir, this is a problem, I should not-" Grant tried to protest but Sir Phillip stopped him with a wave of his hand. "You are dismissed Sir Grant."

Reluctantly Grant departed, leaving the elder agents behind.

"You should make your own journey there someday Lady Maria."

"Where?"

"The Orient, it really is a magical place."

Lady Maria rolled her eyes, something she seemed to make a habit of whenever Sir Phillip was around, "Just a few days and I would be begging for a mission."

"Exactly." With that Sir Phillip turned and followed Grant out the door.

Lady Maria watched his retreating form for a moment before turning to the physician, "The Orient. He really doesn't know does he?"

The man shook his head, "No."

Maria sighed, "And he never can."


	3. Chapter 3

"Act natural."

Michael Peterson looked up from the papers he was going over to see a young woman seated across from him. "What was that?" He furled his brow in confusion.

The maiden leaned forward and spoke in a harried whisper, "Act like we're talking."

Now Michael was really confused, "But we are talking."

The strange young woman smiled, her eyes growing wide with excitement, over what he still had no idea."Good, you can never be too careful, the walls have ears after all."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Skye, and you are The Hooded Hero, or at least that's what everyone is calling you. I would highly suggest that you choose a different name though, something with a bit more impact."

"I-I'm just a miner." Michael stuttered out.

Skye rolled her eyes and giggled, "Well of course you are during the day, but that isn't all you are. I saw you, I saw what you can do. And I have to say that it is extraordinary!" Skye giggled again, overwhelmed with excitement before taking a few deep breaths and schooling her features into a more serious expression. "Sorry about that, I'm afraid I get a little carried away on occasion. You are in danger Michael."

"You have the wrong man." Michael shook his head.

"No I don't, but you do have the wrong approach to all of this. The woman you rescued is simply dying to thank you and the people haven't been this excited since the last royal scandal. Yet here you are hiding in a seedy tavern with no money and no prospects for getting any."

Michael sighed and pushed aside his papers, "So what is this danger you speak of?"

"The Shield."

Michael frowned, why did the woman insist on speaking in riddles, "You mean I should carry a shield? Like a knight?"

Skye shook her head in frustration, "No, not a shield, _The Shield. _A secret order that locks up people like you." She leaned in even closer and Michael found himself mirroring the action. "They knew about the battle of York before it had even happened and then they swept up all the evidence before anyone could ask a thing. How long do you think it would take them to do the same thing to you?"

"Yet you wonder why I'm in hiding." Michael replied.

"What if you didn't? What if you told the world? Made yourself so well known, so well loved, that the Queen herself wouldn't want to touch you." Skye smiled mischievously. "I can help you, I have a bit of a gift for finding things, and for making them disappear. I can help you craft a whole new life for yourself. We could get you armor or a cool cape."

Michael rolled his eyes and got to his feet, he'd heard enough.

"Wait, please." Skye grabbed hold of his arm, "Come to my office and we can talk this over."

Michael quirked an eyebrow, "You have an office?"

Skye bit her lip, "Well, it's really more of a wagon, but I keep it behind the tavern most days, safer than most places and there's no shortage of fools willing to give over their coins in exchange for a peek at their futures from Madame Skye."

Michael sighed, "Thank you Skye, but no."


	4. Chapter 4

Sir Phillip pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped into the library. He walked past the shelves and tables loaded with books to a desk in the very back of the room. At the desk sat a dark haired middle aged woman, scratching away furiously at a piece of parchment with a quill pen. She didn't look up but Phillip knew she had heard him, even years alone in a library couldn't dull Lady Melinda May's senses that much.

Phillip came to stand just behind her and said, "Lady May."

"No." Lady May answered without stopping her writing.

The edges of Phillip's mouth quirked up in a slight smile, he'd expected nothing less, "I take it you've been informed then."

"I am not going back in the field and that is that."

"Yes, because you've got such a lovely situation here." Sir Phillip said dryly, "Have you considered a moat?"

Lady May's answer was a withering glare but Sir Phillip wasn't deterred. "I only need you to sail the ship, maybe supervise now and then, our quest is not for combat."

"Then you don't need me." May retorted.

"Yes, I do. We'll be doing it all for ourselves, choosing our actions and quests, not worrying about 'the book'." Phillip looked over the stacks of books and papers, "This is where they wrote the book isn't it? I'd always wondered." He chuckled and then sobered. "Melinda."

Lady May sighed, "You're truly only asking me to captain the ship?"

Sir Phillip smiled, "I'm not asking."


	5. Chapter 5

**The London Docks, September 28, 1570**

Satchel thrown over his shoulder Grant made his way through the throngs of sailors and dockworkers to where his new home, a sleek vessel christened _Omnibus_, was waiting. Heading up the gangplank he found a young man and woman already inside going through the crates and bags that seemed to nearly fill the ship's loading area. The young woman pulled an odd looking rifle from one of the crates only for the young man to snatch it away.

"Be careful with that, that's the Night Night gun." The man, who spoke with a distinctly scottish accent, held the device to his chest as if it was a child or a pet rather than a weapon.

The woman rolled her eyes in response, "Well, it's on my things. Besides that it doesn't even work. Also, we are absolutely not calling the Night Night gun." Leaving the gun to her companion the woman continued to take items from the crate to the laboratory set up just off the loading area.

"The bullets work just fine. They aren't lethal, they could stop a bear, and they break apart right under the skin." The young man followed the woman closely, the gun still practically cradled in his arms and his face a mask of indignation.

Again the woman rolled her eyes. "Yes, but with hardly a drop of dendrotoxin. I am not Morgana, I cannot cause instant paralysis with such a minuscule amount of poison. You should have shown the plans to me before sending them to the smith."

From there the argument began to escalate. With each passing moment the young man's accent grew stronger and the young woman's eyes rolled farther. Finally Grant decided he had had enough. Standing in the door of the laboratory he threw down his satchel with a heavy thud.

"Fitzsimmons?"

The pair ceased arguing immediately.

"Fitz." The young woman flashed a brilliant smile, revealing unusually perfect white teeth, and pointed across the table to her partner.

"Simmons." The young man reciprocated, albeit with far less enthusiasm. "I'm engineering, she's naturalism and alchemy."

"And no, I'm not a witch." Simmons called out from where she was bent over a desk. Coming back over to stand in front of Grant she bobbed a curtsy, still wearing that shining smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you Grant Ward. Are you excited to join us on our journey into mystery?"

Grant gave a shallow bow and a sarcastic smile, "Thrilled."

Simmons was about to reply when she was interrupted by the sound of clacking hooves and groaning wheels as a carriage was driven right up the gangplank and into the ship. Right behind the carriage came Sir Phillip on a magnificent reddish-brown horse. One of the workers began to reach for the reins but Sir Phillip leveled him with a steady glare, "Don't touch Lola."


	6. Chapter 6

Sir Phillip led Grant up the stairs to the main level of the ship. The level contained the galley, a dining hall, a place for general meeting or relaxation, and cabins for each member of the team.

"So," Sir Phillip turned back to the younger agent with a small smile, "have you heard the one about the man who was afraid to sail?"

"I sailed with Sir Francis Drake against the Spanish Armada Sir Phillip. I can handle this." Grant replied with complete seriousness.

Sir Phillip stopped and blinked, "That was a jest, I-" he stuttered a bit then shook his head, "never mind that then."

Lady May came down the stairs that led to the upper levels with a stack of papers in her hand. "We'll be bringing up the anchor in just a few minutes so you had best get yourselves settled. Also, we may have information on the Rising Tide." She handed the papers to Sir Phillip.

Sir Phillip nodded, "Good, I need to do a bit of catching up."

Lady May nodded and made her way back to the upper deck.

Grant watched Lady May leave with a questioning look before turning to Sir Phillip, "Is that who I think it is?"

Sir Phillip didn't look up from his reading. "She's just the captain."

Grant cocked an eyebrow. "Lady Melinda May is just the captain? Tell me Sir, what are you really doing here?"

Sir Phillip only gave a slight smile, "You had best stow your things." With that he turned and went up the stairs.

**Same day, in a wagon behind a London tavern**

_How will you come at us? _Skye's hand practically flew across the page as she penned her message. _From the sea? From the land? How shall you silence us this time? How can you? The truth is in the wind. It is everywhere. You cannot stop the Rising Tide. You will not find us. You will not see our faces. Yet rest assured, we will rise against those who shield us from the truth. And nothing can stop us in the-_

Skye startled, her pen leaving a ragged mark against the page, as the door of her wagon was thrown open. Two men, one middle aged and one young, both in the attire of knights, stood on the other side of the door.

Skye looked up at the pair with an innocent smile, "Hello. How are you?"

In response the younger man threw a bag over Skye's head and pulled her from the wagon.


	7. Chapter 7

The Omnibus

With the burlap sack still over her head Skye was led along by a firm hand on her elbow. Even without her sight she knew they were at the docks from the unmistakable scent of fish and salt and the sound of swearing sailors. The ground changed slightly as she was led up what she guessed to be a gangplank and onto a ship. A few moments later she was pushed into a chair and the bag was pulled from her head.

The younger man stood over her, towered over her really, with a stern expression. Skye glared at the man, "You have made a grievous error."

The man continued to glower and appeared ready to speak but the other man stepped in. "I do apologize for our lack of finesse. Sir Grant has a bit of an unfortunate history with your society, The Rising Tide."

Skye rolled her eyes, "Listen-"

Sir Grant interrupted her, "No, you listen, there are two ways that we can go about this."

"I suppose one of them is the 'easy' way?" she batted her eyelashes.

Sir Grant's expression didn't waver, "No."

The young woman blinked for a moment and then shrank back in her seat just a bit.

"What is your name?" Sir Grant questioned.

"Skye."

"Your real name." He returned.

The older man stepped in again, "Never mind that, it can wait. We need another name, the name of a certain hooded hero."

"What makes you believe I know such a thing?" Skye answered, her expression guarded.

"You made a mistake. As it turns out the paper you used to make your sketches is specific to a single shop in London."

Skye smiled now and leaned forward, "Was it really a mistake? Because the way I see it I am currently sitting in the heart of your society. A boat is it? And of course by this point you'll have realized that you cannot get into my records, and even if you could you would never be able to decode them. You have nothing."

The man merely smiled, "Oh but we do, we have evidence that you were there when the building exploded. What I want to know is how you knew that the man in the hood would be there."

"Did you cause the explosion to draw him out?" Sir Grant suggested.

Skye glared up at the man, "Did you?"

"We don't work that way." The older man replied.

"How do you work? By abducting people? The SHIELD covered up Pegasus and the incident in the Americas, why wouldn't they cover up Centipede?"

Sir Grant's expression changed slightly and he tried to surreptitiously mouth something to his superior but Skye noticed and quickly realized just what was going on, a big smile spreading across her face. "By all the saints, you don't know what it is. The wealth of the Crown and countless agents at your disposal, yet I managed to find the information gambling in a tavern?"

The leader ignored Skye's outburst, "You should think of your friend. We are not the only ones searching for people with special abilities. We only wish to see to it that he does not use those abilities to cause harm, others might turn him into a weapon or tear him apart in the name of science."


End file.
